


but me, i'm not a gamble (you can count on me to split)

by itjustkindahappened



Series: i know you have a heavy heart [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, French!Harry, M/M, Top!Harry, bottom!Louis, but it was fun to write, but there is also around 2k of smut, florist!harry, heh, i am not too happy about this one, larry fluff, larry smut, larry stylinson - Freeform, seven stories later and i still don't know how to tag, sigh, so very fluffy, that should be about it, this is so fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:30:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2667029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itjustkindahappened/pseuds/itjustkindahappened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Louis knows that this is how they work, that this is how they should work. Because Louis is kind of stubborn and proud and moody and not that good with feelings, while Harry is bright and sensitive, solely controlled by his emotions. For Harry there has always only been pitch black or blinding white, while Louis has spent a majority of his life stuck in a grey inbetween.<i></i></i><br/> </p><p> Harry and Louis visit Doncaster after a few months in The City of Light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but me, i'm not a gamble (you can count on me to split)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is about 97% fluff, 1% angst and 2% smut.  
> I am very embarrassed that it has taken me almost a year to finish this, but it's been a very busy year for me. And hey, better late than never, right?  
> I really hope this is good. It's not very proof read so excuse my mistakes. I am, as it is, still not French, so that could probably be wrong, too. I hope it's not, though.
> 
> Just to set things straight, this is the sequel to [I Know You Have A Heavy Heart (I Can Feel It When We Kiss)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1115475), so I'd recommend to read that first. Or don't. I don't know. You might not understand everything otherwise.
> 
> (yeah I'll stop talking now)  
> (I'm a very awkward soul)  
> (pls excuse my rambling)
> 
> Title is from Lua by Bright Eyes.

~

It’s a relatively calm day at their café. The sun is shining bright through the windows, making all the colors stronger than ever, trees turning greener and sky turning bluer and Harry’s smile turning brighter. Louis thinks it can compete with the sunlight.

”Okay, my turn… Marvel or DC?”

Harry takes a thoughtful sip of his hot chocolate (because Harry simply doesn’t just drink, he _sips_. Louis likes to make fun of it). “I think… You know what, probably DC.”

Louis widens his eyes excessively and his jaw drops. “Are you serious? But what about Spiderman?”

“DC have Superman, Lou. And Batman. They’re classics,” Harry reasons calmly and Louis shakes his head.

“DC does not have the Avengers.”

“The Avengers movie wasn’t that good anyway.”

“Excuse me?”

“The plot was thin and they tried a little bit too hard with the special effects to make up for the lack of it.” Harry shrugs and Louis looks personally offended.

“How very dare you.”

“Sorry.”

“But – _Iron Man_ , though, Harry. He like, epitomizes badass-ness.”

“Louis, have you _seen_ Batman?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Well, obviously, but Iron Man is just the best really. I really like the fact that he’s you know, an actual normal, modern human being. He’s not a super hero because he was born with some supernatural defect or was bitten by some creepy insect –“

“Neither is Batman!”

Louis glares at him before continuing. “ _And_ , he takes advantage of the modern technology and like, his own intelligence and I find it really cool that he can become a superhero just by that. Don’t even laugh at me, Styles, I am very passionate about superheroes. I actually even bought an Iron Man costume back home—“

Harry flinches a little at the word “home” and Louis bites his lip, mentally kicking himself.

A few months has gone since Louis moved to Paris to live with Harry for good. Obviously, Harry is more than happy about it, but after a couple of weeks he’s started expressing (unnecessary) feelings of guilt; after all, it’s him that brings Louis here, far away from his past life and basically everything he has ever known.

Louis doesn’t regret a thing, and he tells Harry so every single time, but nothing he says can quite scrub off the concerned glint in Harry’s eyes.

Louis sighs and reaches over the table, taking one of Harry’s hands in his. Harry looks up at him with uncertainty and Louis makes sure to bring as much genuineness into his voice as possible.

“I still don’t regret anything, you know,” he says softly, stroking the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb. Harry just shakes his head, a few light pink flower petals falling off his flower crown and into his hair and he looks like summer.

“Doncaster is your home, Louis,” he mumbles.

“ _You_ are my home,” Louis corrects him. “Wherever you are, is home to me.”

Harry huffs. “Sap.”

“I don’t think you’re the right person to say that, darling.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” Louis agrees. “And well…”

He hesitates a little. Zayn and he had texted a few days ago, talking about a trip to Doncaster in the near future, and Zayn had particularly asked him to bring Harry since everyone was more than curious about the boy Louis had come to love after spending barely two days is The City of Light.

“Well…?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I was planning a little visit to Doncaster soon,” Louis starts tentatively. Harry opens his mouth, but Louis shakes his head. “Shush. However, I’m not too keen on leaving you here and everyone’s so excited to get to know you. So, what I’m asking is, would you like to come with me?”

Harry stares at him first, and Louis can feel the grip on his hand tighten a bit. “What, and… Meet your family?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Louis gets kind of worried, because Harry looks hesitant and refuses to meet his eyes.

Has he messed up now? Maybe Harry thinks it’s going too fast, Louis doesn’t know. In a normal relationship the parents should’ve been introduced by now, right? Probably even sooner, but there is the required flight over to England that holds them back a bit.

But then Harry says “But what if… What if they don’t like me?”

And _oh_ , Louis understands what this is about. He laughs in relief, and when he sees Harry look up at him ashamedly, he’s quick to explain.

“Harry, I have yet to meet a person who doesn’t like you,” he giggles. “You really scared me there for a moment.”

And honestly, Louis spends quite a lot of time in the flower shop, (he helps Harry there until he learns French better and can get an own job) and he’s seen costumers come and go, and every single one seems to be as endeared by the boy as Louis had been the first time they met. There is just something about his easy-going, life-loving nature, Louis guesses. It’s hard not to get attached.

Harry just looks at him as Louis stifles the giggles, and Louis catches a glimpse of a smile on his face, dimple slightly deepening.

“So would you please do me the honor?” he asks again, taking Harry’s other hand in his as well, looking at him hopefully.

Harry bites his lip, but then rolls his eyes and smiles. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Louis grins triumphantly and leans over the table to place a little kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

 

~

 

When they get home that day, they immediately start looking for flights. They find one that goes to Leeds Bradford airport in a week, so Louis decides to text Zayn to ask for a ride home.

_“care to pick me and harry up at leeds bradford airport next tuesday? :)”_

He gets an instant answer, saying _“that’s like a 1h drive, lou”_

_“is that a yes or no?”_

He has to wait a little bit longer this time, before his phone vibrates again. _“what time?”_

_“the plane lands 2pm i’ll send more details later. thank u zaynie iou xxxxx”_

_“yeah yeah it’s only bc i wanna be the first one to meet loverboy”_

Louis might blush a bit at the last text when Harry reads over his shoulder and snickers. He elbows Harry lightly and mutters a little “shut up” and Harry kisses him on the cheek.

_“you have missed me loads you’re just too cool to say so”_

_“yeah yeah i’ve missed you loads and loads and i’m really happy you’re visiting xx. there you go”_

_“aw zayyn you’re making me all teary here”_

_“this is why i don’t get emotional with you”_

They decide to stay a week, because that’s about how long they can get Eleanor to agree to take care of the flower shop. The following days are full of discussing what to do and who to meet and what to pack. Harry insists on bringing all of his flower crowns (“flowers are comforting!”), when they’re packing on Monday evening, and Louis rolls his eyes fondly so many times in one night he loses count.

 

~

 

When they get out of the plane at Leeds Bradford Airport, England welcomes them with a grey sky and light rain.

Louis sighs deeply. If there is anything he does not and never will miss in England, it’s the rain.

As soon as they both have their suitcases, Louis turns to Harry, who looks out the windows with amusement.

“Does it actually rain as much as people say in England?” he asks.

“Yes,” Louis says matter-of-factly. “Unfortunately. You don’t know how much I want it to be nothing but assumptions.”

Harry grins. “It’s okay, though. I like rain.”

Louis snorts affectionately. “You like everything.”

He pulls out his phone and dials Zayn’s number. The airport is big, and he has no idea where he is.

“I’m just gonna call Zayn,” he clarifies to Harry, who nods and slips his hand into Louis’ smaller one.

Louis hides a smile in the collar of his jacket. It’s one of his favorite things, the way Harry just casually holds his hand, like it’s home. It’s warm and familiar and safe, and it makes Louis full of unexplained affection.

Zayn picks up after three signals.

“Hey, Lou.”

“Where are you?”

Zayn snorts on the other line. “I don’t even get a ‘hi’ anymore?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’ll get a ‘hi’ as soon as we actually meet. Now, would you please tell me your location?”

Zayn tells him that he’s at McDonald’s, and Louis promises that they’ll be there as soon as possible. Then he pulls Harry with him by their intertwined hands and they start walking in the direction of the restaurants.

Turns out, to their big relief, it wasn’t that hard to find McDonald’s and when they enter the hamburger bar Louis immediately starts looking over the pretty crowded place for the raven black quiff.

When he spots him at a small table by a corner, he jumps excitedly and points for Harry to see.

“There he is!” he exclaims with a grin and pulls Harry along.

He’s not a five year old. He promises.

“Zayn!” Louis says as soon as he’s close enough, and Zayn’s head perks up and he grins.

“Tommo,” he greets and stands up. They share a quick, tight hug and a wide grin before Zayn’s eyes move over to Harry, eyeing him and Louis thinks he sees a hint of surprise in the way he looks at him.

Now, Zayn isn’t the most accepting and welcoming of new people, especially not Louis’ boyfriends, and he’ll definitely show his disapproval if that is the case. They just have to earn his respect, basically. They need to have done something for him to accept them. And, well, that could take between a few minutes and never. (Honestly, Louis will never really understand why they’re even friends and how the fuck Louis earned that.)

Louis certainly hopes that Harry’s charm works on Zayn the same way it does on everyone else, because he really, really wants them to get along. It’s different than it was with Ryan, and he hopes Zayn can see that, too.

“So you must be Harry,” Zayn says then and Harry smiles.

“I am,” he confirms. “And you’re Zayn.”

“I am,” Zayn echoes. He is still watching Harry with cocked head, curious eyes slightly narrowed, kind of deciding what to think of him.

Harry extends a hand and the smile turns into a smirk. “Nice to speak to you when it’s not eight in the morning and I’ve stolen Louis’ phone because I need someone to pick him up at the airport.”

Zayn blurts out a surprised laugh at that, and Louis relaxes completely. Harry’s got this. He’s just a bundle of charm and quirkiness and sincerity and honestly, if he cracks Zayn’s surface within a minute, then there’s really no one immune to him. Louis decides these are going to be the best days of his life. Save for the first days in Paris, maybe.

Zayn takes Harry’s hand, but pulls him in for a quick hug. “This is a thank you for what you’ve done for Lou, mate,” he declares and grins. As soon as the surprised expression is gone from Harry’s dimpled face, he immediately lights up like a fucking supernova and they start walking out of there.

Louis could cry right now, he could. It’s all deeply moving.

They walk out of McDonald’s and head for the exit, and Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s waist as they do, pulling him as close as possible. He can’t help it right now, okay. Harry is just so lovely and he handles this whole thing great and Louis is so proud of being able to call him his.

Harry looks down on him, eyes still shining like a leaf forest in morning sunlight, and Louis mouths an ‘I love you’ to him as they hurry out on the parking lot, trying to escape the rain as fast as possible. Harry just kisses his nose lightly and they keep walking at a fast pace.

Zayn just throws glances at them every now and then, and Louis definitely sees his smirk when he catches him.

When they finally reach the car, Zayn throws himself into the driver seat, starting the engine to get the heat going. Harry and Louis sits in the back, a bit unnecessarily close maybe, but that’s just them. Harry takes his flower crown off, inspecting it thoroughly to make sure nothing’s damaged.

“So, Harry,” Zayn starts once he’s backed out from his spot. “Louis told me you’re a florist?”

Harry perks up, placing the flower crown back on his head and smiles. “Yes, I am.”

“Must be a very exciting job.”

Louis catches the hint of sarcasm in Zayn’s voice and rolls his eyes.

Harry is looking dead serious, though. “It is. You don’t know how many soap opera worthy stories I get to hear every day.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s like, stuff they don’t even tell their closest friends. Secret love interests and abusive relationships and sexuality crises and the whole bunch.”

“And they spill it all to you?” Zayn asks.

“Well, yeah. I mean, there aren’t very many other people who listen to them, I reckon. So I just offer that spot.”

Sometimes Louis feels like he really isn’t worthy of Harry.

(He’d try to explain that to Harry sometimes. Harry would quieten him with a kiss and just keep kissing until Louis would forget what he was talking about.)

“So people just trust you immediately?” Zayn says.

“I think it’s the dimples,” Louis interjects in a stage whisper.

Harry elbows him emphatically. “I just think people are holding in with too much stuff, you know? Some time that got to come out. And I don’t mind listening when they do because that’s mostly what they want. To just be heard, I mean.”

Zayn catches Louis’ eyes in the rearview mirror and his brown eyes are wide, eyebrows raised in something Louis would like to call positive disbelief and Louis smiles triumphantly.

“Well,” Zayn just states, voice almost void of emotion. “How the fuck did you find this guy, honestly, Lou.”

“I was cold and his flowers were pretty,” Louis answers with the same factual tone.

Zayn’s just quiet for a while, focusing on the road and Louis can see his puzzled expression through the mirror.

“Whatever,” he mutters at last, still not looking away from the grey landscape outside. “I hope you keep him.”

 

~

 

“Here we are.” Louis is all jumpy with excitement as the pair approaches the door to his family’s house.

Zayn has just dropped them off, and before he let them go he had gotten out of the car with them to stand face to face with Harry and say “Okay so I like you, Harry, but I still feel like I have to give the whole ‘you break my best friend’s heart and I’ll break you’ talk so like. Yeah. Don’t. Don’t do that.”

His tone had been low and casual, but his face had been dead serious.

“I’d never,” Harry had answered, fully understanding the gravity of Zayn’s words.

And Louis had cleared his throat and muttered a “guys, I’m still here,” and Zayn had grinned.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow. I’m gonna go bragging to Niall now,” had been his last words before he sat back in his car.

And now, Louis just can’t wait, because it’s been such a long time since he saw his family last.

He looks over to Harry before opening the door, making sure he’s okay. Harry is nervously playing with the hem of his t-shirt, biting his lip and Louis’ heart melts a little bit. He slips an arm around his waist, and when Harry looks at him Louis smiles gently.

“They’ll love you almost as much as I do,” he promises. “Just be your beautiful self, yeah?”

Harry takes a deep breath and adjusts his flower crown (African daisies and forget-me-nots. Forget-me-nots are kind of their Thing). “Yeah,” he nods and smiles. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Louis grins and gives Harry’s waist a light squeeze, before slamming the door open and stomping in.

“Hello!” he shouts as he pulls Harry in with him. “Girls?”

Muffled shrieks are heard through the halls and thumping, lights steps are coming closer. It’s the twins, Daisy and Phoebe, who are first and their identical smiles are stretched wide.

“Lou!” they yell happily, crashing into him in a hug, and Louis laughs.

“Hi, girls,” he says as he lets go of Harry to hug them both properly. “I’ve missed you.”

And then Jay rounds the corner together with Lottie and with one two year old baby on each hip, practically squealing when she sees Louis together with the curly haired stranger in the hallway.

Harry just silently stands back and watches the whole scene, as Louis exchanges hugs and words with his family. And well, he does feel a bit bad again. Because he’s dragged Louis away from this. He almost doesn’t notice Daisy coming up to him slowly, curiously observing him.

“Where’s Fizz, then?” Louis asks and Lottie snorts.

“She’s out with her boyfriend. She said she’ll be home soon, though.”

Louis’ eyes widens. “She got a boyfriend?” he repeats in a feigned horrified tone. “What happened after I left?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that,” Jay waves dismissively and lets her eyes leave Louis, to set on Harry.

Harry is bent down so he’s the same height as Daisy, smiling adorably as Daisy speaks.

“Why do you have those in your hair?” she asks and points to the flower crown.

“I really like flowers,” Harry says simply.

“I’m named after a flower,” Daisy points out and Harry nods.

“You are,” he agrees. “Daisy. Associated with purity and patience, innocence and loyal love. And also beauty. I have them in my hair right now, African daisies. They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

He still has a shining smile on his lips and Daisy looks at him with eyes wide blown and nods.

“Do my name really mean all that great stuff or are you just trying to impress?” she asks.

Harry chuckles, but nods excessively. “Of course I mean it. I’m a florist, I should know, right?”

“Mum,” Louis starts without being able to take his eyes of Harry and his eleven year old sister. “This is Harry. My boyfriend.”

Harry’s head snaps up and he looks at Jay with a sheepish smile. He straightens himself, shyly looking at her under long eyelashes. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Tomlinson.”

Jay beams at him, though and extends a hand. “Call me Jay. And it’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve been hearing so much about you.”

“Only nice things, I hope,” Harry laughs nervously and scratches his neck before shaking Jay’s hand.

“The nicest,” Jay promises with a meaning glance at Louis and a wiggle of the eyebrows. Louis just huffs.

“Your flower crown is really nice,” Phoebe, who has been standing quietly by Lottie’s side, says. “Do you do them yourself?”

Harry nods. “I could do one for you, if you want,” he suggests, voice gentle and Louis wants to hold him tightly and never ever let go.

Phoebe lights up at that. “Really?”

“Of course. I could teach you, even. They’re really simple, I make ones for Lou all the time.” Harry looks at Louis with a playful smirk. “He pretends he doesn’t love them.”

Louis rolls his eyes and swats him on the arm. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go inside, babycakes.”

Harry and Louis take off their coats and shoes and they follow the rest of the family in to the kitchen.

“I’ve made tea,” Jay says. “That okay, Harry?”

“Tea’s great,” Harry assures her.

Harry ends up between Louis and Lottie at the table and he turns to her with a dashing smile, determined to make conversation with every person in this household.

“You’re Charlotte, right?” he says and she nods.

“You can call me Lottie, though.”

“Hi Lottie,” Harry pauses quickly and thinks. “You’re the one who can speak French, right?”

Lottie starts grinning and nods. “ _Le francais est ma matière préférée à l'école_ ,” she enlightens him and Harry raises his eyebrows and hums in appreciation.

Oh my God, _really_? _Now_?

“ _Bon pronunciation_ ,” he compliments and Louis can see Lottie holding back a proud smile. “ _Depuis combien de temps apprenez-vous le français_?”

“ _Trois ans_ ,” Lottie says and Louis groans.

“ _Guys_ ,” he exclaims. “I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this outside France. I feel so dumb and uneducated.”

Harry grins. “You’re not dumb or uneducated, _cheri._ You’re just lazy.”

“You’re telling me,” Louis swears he can hear Jay mutter from across the table and he sends her a hurt look.

“I’m not lazy. There’s just so many other better things I could do with my time.”

Like be with Harry. Or cuddle Harry. Or kiss Harry.

Harry is just one hell of a distraction, really.

“Louis,” Lottie says. “If you’re going to live in Paris, a basic thing to do would be to learn the language before anything else.”

“Whatever,” Louis huffs. “I am learning. I am. Harry’s teaching me. Next time I’m here I’ll basically be fluent. I better be, since French people seem to be personally offended when trying to approach them in English.”

“This is so great,” Lottie grins. “I’m going to find out all your dirty secrets and you won’t even know what’s happening.”

Louis is slowly starting to regret ever doing this.

“So, Harry,” Jay starts suddenly, changing the topic (to Louis’ relief). “You’re a florist?”

Harry turns his head to her and smiles. “Yes. I own a small flower shop, since about a year and a half back.”

“That’s lovely. When did you decide to become a florist? Is it something you’ve always wanted?”

“Yeah, pretty much. My mum used to make flower crown for my sister when we were little, and I would always be very jealous of them, so she started making them for me as well. I don’t know, I just kind of fell into it naturally. I’ve always been really fascinated by flowers, and I’ve always been creative. So it just fit, I guess. I’d like to think of it as just another kind of art. You know, combine patterns and colors and messages. It’s all in there.”

Jay nods and Louis tangles his and Harry’s fingers together under the table.

The conversation flows as they keep talking and it’s all going great as Harry somehow leads the conversation onto Louis’ family and about their lives and invites Louis into the conversation as well. He points out that it’s funny how Louis and Lottie both have French names when he himself has an English one. He asks about interests and school and seems genuinely fascinated. Harry is interested in getting to know Louis’ family and it’s just great. It’s not awkward or stiff, and Louis is grateful.

As they head off to the living room (Louis’ mum had mentioned his lead role in his school production of Grease and Harry had then insisted on seeing it), Jay elbows Louis in the side lightly as Harry is getting dragged to the sofa by the twins. “He’s wonderful,” she says lowly and smiles.

“I know,” Louis just answers.

 

~

 

They go to sleep together, sharing Louis’ childhood bed. Harry puts his arms around Louis waist from behind him, pulling him closer and placing a light kiss on his shoulder. Louis intertwines their fingers slowly, feeling Harry’s soft breathing tickling his neck.

“Do you think they like me?” Harry murmurs into Louis’ skin and Louis almost snorts.

“Are you kidding? If they loved you more they’d be me.”

Harry’s quiet laugh vibrates in his chest. “Felicité’s reaction was the funniest.”

(Fizzy had been very stunned by Harry’s appearance from second one. “Dammit Lou, did you forget to mention that you’re dating a French model or what’s the deal?”)

“I think her reaction was the most human one,” Louis interferes. “After all, you could very well be a French model. She has a point. I can relate.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m not, though.”

“You totally could be.”

“Could not.”

“All tall and lean and broad shoulders—“

“Very slouching figure…”

“Long legs and luscious curls and emerald green eyes—“

“Incredibly clumsy and hair in the way at all times…”

“We here see Harry Styles enter the catwalk in a _beautiful_ —“

“We here see Harry Styles enter the catwalk and _fall on his ass_.”

Louis stifles a laugh as Harry huffs frowningly into his hair. “Those are meant to be compliments, you know,” Louis points out.

“Yeah, yeah. Although I thought we agreed you’re the pretty one.”

“No. I’m the hot one, remember? Elf. Orlando Bloom. Hot. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Harry snorts, but doesn’t answer. Louis pulls the covers up to his ears, focusing on Harry’s soft breathing once again. Harry moves a hand to run his fingers through Louis’ hair, tangling them into his caramel locks, softly massaging his scalp. Louis sighs happily and closes his eyes.

“Better get some sleep, Haz. After all, you are probably going to meet some more new people tomorrow.”

Harry curses lowly ( _merde_ is one of the first French words Louis learned. Harry seems quite fond of the expression). Louis grins. “Don’t worry, it’ll go just great.”

“Well I can’t promise everyone to make them flower crowns to get their acceptance, can I?”

“You won’t need to, silly. They’ll adore you anyway. Also it’s my turn to show you around for once.” Louis turns around so he can rest his head under Harry’s chin. “Now, sleep,” he mumbles and tangles his legs together with Harry’s, attempting to get as close as possible.

“ _Fais de beaux rêves_ ,” he hears Harry whisper, before his eyes flutter shut. _Sweet dreams._

 

~

 

Nothing has changed in Doncaster, really. It’s all the same people walking down the streets, all the same colors comfortably dimmed by the light grey sky. Doncaster has always looked like a cold watercolor painting, Louis thinks to himself.

He finds comfort in its constancy.

Harry and he are just leaving the local flower shop that Harry had insisted they visited. Harry was of course the loveliest he could possibly be, chatting and bonding over floristry things with the middle aged lady behind the desk, using words like _Boutonnière_ and _Ikebana_ and other expressions alien to Louis as they spoke. Even though Harry promised it would just be a short stop, they ended up staying for thirty more minutes as Harry got to help her with a wedding bouquet before leaving. Louis let him be, though. He likes seeing Harry this way, all excited and gesticulative.

When they’re out of the door, Harry is holding a delicate package with various flowers under his arm and he’s wearing a content smile on his lips.

“She was so nice!” he exclaims, almost as if surprised.

“What, didn’t you expect her to be?” Louis rolls his eyes fondly.

“Well, yes, but she even let me help her! I am always such a perfectionist about my own arrangements, I’d never let anyone touch them.”

They continue playfully bantering back and forth with intertwined hands swaying in-between them, laughs and smiles all over the place and Louis thinks, nothing could ever ruin this for them.

And then.

“Louis?”

Louis stops in his tracks, and slowly turns around. He knows that voice a tiny bit too well.

“Ryan?”

Ryan smiles widely as he approaches them. “Hey!”

He pulls Louis in for a hug when he reaches the couple, and Louis hugs back, startled.

“I haven’t seen you in _ages_!” Ryan exclaims as he pulls back to look at him, not at all paying attention to Harry by the blue eyed man’s side. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Oh,” Louis gives him a small smile and takes Harry’s hand again. “Yeah, I live in Paris now.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, really? Paris? That’s great, Lou! But… If you don’t mind me asking, why?”

“Because I wanted to. You know, since Harry lives there and all.”

“Ah.” Ryan moves his gaze to eye Harry up and down in an act of quick judgment, finally acknowledging his existence and giving him a tight smile. “Does he speak English?”

“No,” Harry deadpans, “Louis’ a fluent French speaker, obviously.”

Ryan laughs. “Obviously. How could I miss that?”

He nudges Louis’ arm and smiles playfully. “Really though, how are you?”

“I’m really good,” Louis tells him. “France is absolutely gorgeous, you should see it.”

“Is that an invitation?”

Louis swats Ryan’s side, but the smirk doesn’t vanish from the other man’s face. “It’s a _factual recommendation_.”

Ryan grins. “Whatever you say, babe.”

“Oh shut up,” Louis rolls his eyes. “How are things for you, by the way? You and your beau still going strong?”

“Yeah,” Ryan smiles. “Yeah, it’s all good, we’re great.”

“That’s wonderful, Ryan,” Louis tells him, and he really means it. It’s such a relief for him, that they can stand and make conversation like this, without any kind of hostility or awkward tension. He’s so grateful.

“Yeah,” Ryan hauls his phone out of his pocket to quickly read something, and then smiles at the pair in front of him. “Speaking of which, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you!”

“You too,” Louis says happily as Ryan picks up speed in their opposite direction.

 

~

 

Harry is very quiet after that.

Louis doesn’t quite understand why; there was just the very innocent and platonic meeting with Ryan and then there was Harry forcing his usually blindingly bright smile and Louis doesn’t really get it.

There is no reason for Harry to be upset with him, or anyone, really. Louis is not angry with Ryan anymore since if he hadn’t gone and fucked up, Louis never would’ve met Harry, and besides, being all hostile and cold towards one another would just add awkwardness to the whole thing which Louis thought Harry wanted as little of as possible.

When they arrive at the house again, no one is home except them. Harry immediately sits down in the kitchen with his collection of flowers and starts sorting through them with a concentrated frown. Next to him, Louis’ mum had left a note informing them that the rest of the family had gone to town for some shopping.

Louis sits down facing Harry at the table. Harry doesn’t look up from the flowers, not acknowledging Louis at all, and yeah, he’s upset.

Louis can’t have that.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Why are you mad at me?”

That at least catches Harry’s attention and his voice is quiet when he responds. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Yes you are,” Louis protests. “I know how you get, you go all quiet on me and then you get that bothering wrinkle between your eyebrows…”

Harry puts the flower crown away, seemingly kind of annoyed. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“You tell me,” Louis shrugs, “I can’t figure out a valid reason. I mean, I just know that we talked to Ryan and then you…”

The way Harry tenses up at the mention of Louis’ ex-boyfriend confirms Louis’ suspicions.

“It’s Ryan, isn’t it?”

Harry remains silent, and Louis almost laughs in disbelief.

“Harry, you do know I am not interested in Ryan at all, right?”

“Well,” Harry mutters. “Ryan was certainly interested in you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Did you miss the part where he has a boyfriend?”

“Having a boyfriend hasn’t stopped him before,” Harry answers coldly, and Louis flinches, a strike of hurt flashing across his face.

“But it stops _me_ ,” he says lowly.

Harry doesn’t seem to listen. “I’m surprised you didn’t catch on. He’s not really good with subtlety, is he?”

 _No, that’s apparently a trade I like in boys_ , Louis contemplates answering, but he doesn’t. He can feel the hurt turns more and more into irritation and even though one part of him shouts ‘ _no, you’re not doing this, not now, not here, come on’_ , he can’t help but clench his jaw and narrow his eyes as he says;

“Even if he was, what does it matter? I am very much content with the boyfriend I have, thank you, so what does he matter?”

When Harry just shrugs like he’s completely nonchalant to all of this, Louis decides it’s enough. He hates it when Harry does this.

“Don’t _even_ pull that ‘I don’t care’ shit with me. Speak up or get over it.”

“I just feel like shit, alright?” Harry snaps. It’s very sudden and very out of his character and Louis flinches a little, surprised. “You _belong_ here. You looked so happy, Louis, when we were walking down the streets and greeting every single passing person like they’re longtime friends of yours. I can’t help but feel like you should be _here_. I hate being the one to take all of this away from you. And then we bump into your cheating ex-boyfriend and… God, never mind.”

Louis looks at him coldly. “No, please do continue.”

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh and looks lividly around the room, exaggeratedly throwing his arms in the air (Frenchmen and their gestures, honestly).

“I just thought that maybe after that I would feel less bad because he would be rude or icy or _something_ that proved that not everything in this town is perfect for you. But then you – you were perfectly fine. He was nice and you seemed happy and he even _flirted_ with you. And you looked so comfortable with him there.”

Harry exhales deeply and laughs bitterly. “He didn’t really like me, though,” he adds.

Louis massages his temples, exhaling slowly. “Am I a fucking bad boyfriend, Harry?”

Under other circumstances, he would kiss the frown off of Harry’s face.

“What? _No_ ,” Harry retorts instantly, obviously offended that Louis would even suggest that.

“Then how come that I have still not been able to make you understand that I belong with _you_? That it’s been _months_ , and you can still not get it into your head that I am _supposed to be in Paris_? Because the only reason I can come up with is that I’m doing something wrong.”

Harry looks around with almost desperation. “How could I not, Louis, when even _he_ seemed to fit into this whole life you left behind? And then he looked at me like I was… Like I was some invader who got you by an accident.”

“God, _Harry_!” Louis raises furiously from his chair, eyes boring into Harry’s dark green ones. “I don’t know just what to say to make you _get it_. I – I _chose_ this, alright? Because I might love Doncaster, and I might love the people here, but that’s not enough, that has never been enough. And I’ve had all the reasons to be happy. I have a loving family and I made loads of friends and went out drinking and partying and sleeping around and then I got myself a long term boyfriend, _but I was still not entirely happy_. Do you know when I finally felt that?”

Harry doesn’t answer. So Louis continues.

“Walking around Paris with you. You were making fun of my height and you had snowflakes stuck in your hair, and I was just like ‘oh. So this is what it feels like’. And even though I live in a country away from everything I’ve ever known, and I have no job, and have trouble learning your _stupid_ language, I’m happier there with you than I ever was here.”

Harry’s eyes are a bit shiny. He looks down on his hands. “But Ryan,” he starts doubtfully.

“ _Ryan_ is obviously going to mean something to me, since we were in a relationship for three years. I loved him, Harry! And I see no reason as to why I should hold a lifelong grudge against him for leading me to you.”

There is a shaking intake of breath and Louis almost whispers the last words.

“I wouldn’t trade you for _anything_ , so you should probably start to get used to having me around.”

It’s quiet for a long while after that. Louis’ breath is heavy.

“He was your boyfriend for _three years_ , Lou,” Harry says quietly, and he looks utterly small now, like a child almost. “You can’t blame me for worrying.”

“Suppose so,” Louis agrees. “But you’re the one I moved countries to be with. You might want to take that into consideration.”

With those words, he turns around and leaves Harry in the kitchen.

 

~

 

He settles for his own room, slamming the door shut behind him and throws himself down in a chair, leaning over the clean desk. He buries his head in his hands and sighs deeply. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not here.

It’s just, Harry’s jealousy is completely irrational, isn’t it?

Louis knows that this is how they work, that this is how they should work. Because Louis is kind of stubborn and proud and moody and not that good with feelings, while Harry is bright and sensitive, solely controlled by his emotions. For Harry there has always only been pitch black or blinding white, while Louis has spent a majority of his life stuck in a grey inbetween.

Some collisions between the two are unavoidable. Louis is aware of this and he will gladly take it, because at the end of the day, they complement each other perfectly. When there are too many feelings for Harry to comprehend, when he will confuse himself and need help see through the layers of thick emotion, Louis will hold him and explain all Harry needs to know, tell him all he needs to hear for hours and hours.

Just like when Louis is closing in on himself, turning snappy and rude and unpleasant, Harry will just make him a cup of tea and a flower crown and wrap them both up in a blanket. He will cuddle Louis, caress and kiss him until the cold melts away from Louis’ eyes and his smile is so warm they don’t even need the blanket anymore.

Louis knows he could’ve handled this differently. He could’ve sat down right next to Harry and put his arms around him. He could’ve kissed his cheek and just told him that there was nothing to worry about, and Harry would probably have let it go and turned lovely and affectionate in no time.

But the thing is, that when Harry’s discontent is even slightly directed towards _Louis_ , then things just go wrong. Because then Louis turns rude and unpleasant, unable to help Harry come down and see the perspective on things, and therefore, Harry is unable to chase away Louis’ own hostility.

It’s a disaster.

Louis brings a hand to his mouth, biting loosely on his thumbnail as he wonders what he should do now. His walk-off was fantastic, really, top three he’s ever made in his life for sure, and Louis is way too proud to go back out there after that kind of scene. And besides, he’s done nothing wrong. So he’ll wait.

Luckily for Louis, it doesn’t take long until the door is opened slowly and then just as quietly shut again. Careful footsteps make the floorboards creak, and then Harry’s warm embrace is enveloping him from behind.

Harry places his chin on Louis’ shoulder, leaning in towards the crook of Louis’ neck and Louis lets out a deep sigh as he feels his whole body relax in a matter of seconds.

“ _Je suis désolé_ ,” Harry mumbles and kisses Louis’ temple. “ _Je suis désolé_ ,” he says again, moving his lips to peck Louis on the cheek, “ _Je suis désolé_ ,” he repeats and plants a kiss on Louis’ jawline.

Harry tends to speak French when his feelings are spilling over. It’s like his entire English vocabulary vanishes sometimes, like there is nothing left in his mind but his sincerity.

Louis finds it beautiful.

He automatically leans into Harry’s touch. His skin tickles where Harry’s lips has touched it and his temperature is rising rapidly.

“ _Je ne voulais pas te blesser_ ,” Harry whispers.

Louis turns and stands up from the chair so he can put his arms around Harry, too. He knows, he knows Harry didn’t mean to hurt him, and his anger is completely washed away in a matter of seconds.

He buries his face in Harry’s chest at first, to feel the somewhat unsteady rise-and-fall of his chest and the fuzzy heat from his body wrapped around Louis’ own, smaller one. Harry always manages to smell like roses and grass in the morning dew and it might be Louis’ favorite thing in the world.

Harry’s whole presence just reminds him of an overgrown, colorful meadow in the middle of a dense forest.

A hand brings Louis’ chin up to meet the leaf green eyes way above his own, reminding Louis of how painfully short he is compared to Harry. Another time he’d might make a half-assed complaint or joke about it.

This is not another time.

There is still a hint of distress in Harry’s eyes as they quietly watch each other. Louis wants it gone.

No one really knows how it happens or who starts it, but the next moment their lips meet and Harry sighs softly into Louis’ mouth. His hands resting at Louis’ lower back tightens their grip a bit, pulling Louis closer and aligning their bodies until there’s almost no space between the two at all.

It starts out like putting on your favorite sweater a cold winter’s day; comforting, warm and safe.

Harry’s cherry pink lips are as soft as always, gently sucking on Louis’ chapped lower lip and pulling back, either to take a gasping intake of breath or to mumble a heartfelt apology before diving back in, driving Louis positively mad in the process.

“I’m sorry, _je ne l'ai pas fait exprès_ – I didn’t mean – “ he tries, and Louis just lets his hands wander up to Harry’s neck, pulling him back in.

“Yeah, it’s okay, it’s all good – _c’est ne pas grave_ , whatever, we’re fine” Louis gasps, and Harry’s response is a wistful groan.

“You can’t just attack me with French,” he almost whines against Louis’ lips. “It makes me want to _wreck_ you.”

Louis whimpers.

It starts like putting on your favorite sweater a cold winter’s day, and it ends with desperately needing that sweater off a hot day in August.

Louis twirls the short curls by Harry’s neck with his fingers and holds on, drawing him impossibly closer until all he feels is Harry’s chest pressed against his and Harry’s arms around his waist and Harry’s hands under his shirt and Harry’s growing hard-on against his hip.

It’s all so extremely intense and Louis feels dizzy.

“We should probably – bed,” he gasps.

Harry nods and reattaches their lips as he practically drags Louis with him, stumbles backwards until he lands clumsily on the unmade bed, Louis atop of him.

Louis snickers. “Smooth,” he remarks with a grin.

Harry just looks at him, before gripping Louis’ hips and flipping the two of them over. Louis’ head is now lying against the pillows and Harry is hovering over him with a smirk, probably a bit too smug for Louis’ liking.

“Don’t get all cocky, Louis. It’s not attractive.” Harry takes a hold of Louis’ wrists, holding them still over Louis’ head and dives in for another burning kiss.

“First of all,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s mouth, “you’re a filthy liar.”

But then Harry grinds down against him, causing Louis to stop abruptly, and his back arches as he bucks his own hips up, desperately in need for more friction. His eyelids flutter shut for a few seconds and he lets out a tiny moan as he meets Harry’s movements.

“Second… of all,” he tries, and opens his eyes to see Harry’s smug smile inches above him. “I feel like that’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely not.”

Harry’s hands let go of Louis’ wrists to slide down the smaller man’s sides. Louis shudders as they slip under his white t-shirt, the long fingers leaving a fiery sensation up and down his stomach.

“This,” Harry declares with one hand fisted in the soft cotton fabric, “needs to go.”

Louis sits up obediently and lets Harry tug the t-shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. As soon as it’s off, Harry’s touch is everywhere again, tracing the smooth skin of Louis’ stomach all the way up past his chest to finally cup his face. The gesture is so incredibly _tender_ that Louis is instantly filled with such intense affection for his boyfriend. As those plump lips are on his again, Louis reaches down to messily unbutton Harry’s stupid shirt as well as he can while almost passing out from the way Harry’s licking into his mouth and lightly biting his lower lip.

“I really want to blow you,” Harry tells him, his breath warm against Louis’ tongue. “Can I?”

“Christ – _yes_ ,” Louis whimpers. His cock is almost aching now, helplessly trapped in the snug jeans he’s wearing. “ _Yes_ , you can.”

Harry smiles as he lowers them both until Louis is propped up against the pillows with his legs spread, Harry settling in between them with a kiss to Louis’ jaw.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he mumbles against Louis’ throat, letting his bruised lips trace a vein in his neck, kissing along his collarbone before stopping to suck a lovebite into the sensitive skin there. Louis’ breath hitches.

After planting a kiss on the new bruise forming on the blue-eyed man’s collarbone, Harry continues to make his way down Louis’ chest with his mouth, letting his fingers trace Louis’ curves. He stops right by the belly button, only inches above the waistband of Louis’ boxers and Louis feels a smile against his skin.

“ _Si beau_ ,” is what Harry says, his breath tickling Louis belly.

“Harry,” Louis whines. “ _Please_.”

Harry pulls the zipper down, dragging Louis’ pants all the way to his ankles, and Louis impatiently kicks them off completely as Harry hooks a finger in the waistline of Louis’ boxers.

“Well,” he hums. “Since you ask so nicely.”

Then he pulls the boxers down mid-thigh and takes Louis length halfway down his throat in one go and Louis yelps and fists his hands in Harry’s hair.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” he gasps, shutting his eyes tight and mouth falling open.

Louis has yet to meet a person as eager to please as Harry. His habit of putting other people first becomes evident in the way he speaks, and reasons, and the way he takes Louis farther and farther down his throat, working his head up and down and completely ignoring his eyes watering, determined to make Louis feel as good as humanly possible.

It always makes Louis’ heart tremble with affection, and he runs his fingers through the curls in-between his thighs, careful not to harm the flower crown that’s still resting on Harry’s head, and together with the plush, red lips around Louis’ cock and the long, wet eyelashes gracing his cheeks as he closes his eyes, it makes him look like some sort of sexed up angel.

Harry pulls off almost completely to swirl his tongue around the head of Louis’ length, earning a whimper from the blue eyed man as he sucks on the tip. Louis’ breath is heavy and uneven as he prevents himself from thrusting back into the warmth of Harry’s mouth. He can feel the familiar heat coiling in the pit of his stomach as Harry just keeps sucking and a shiver runs along Louis’ spine.

“Harry,” he moans softly and his voice is thick with need. “Harry – stop, I’m gonna – gonna come of you keep doing that.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, but pulls off. “I’m failing to see why that would be a problem” he mumbles against the soft flesh of Louis’ thigh.

“Because I’d like you to fuck me,” Louis tells him, and Harry then turns his head up to look at him, eyes visibly several shades darker.

“Please,” Louis adds as an afterthought.

Harry smirks, but nods. “Okay,” he says gently, his voice dark and raspy. “Where do you have – “

“Nightstand bottom left drawer,” Louis interrupts impatiently. “If you dig through the layer of socks there should be some stuff there…”

Harry snickers as he reaches down to open the drawer and starts digging around for lube and condoms. Louis gives him a light slap on the arm.

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m terrified that one day my mum will come in here looking for something and then _bam_ – “

“ _J’taime_ ,” Harry just says with a shake of his head.

“Love you, too,” Louis breathes with a grin spreading across his face.

After only a matter of seconds, Harry finds what he’s looking for and the sound of the lube bottle opening is like music to Louis’ ears.

“Well, then,” Harry says. “Spread your legs for me, _cheri_.”

Louis just does as his told, spreading his legs farther apart, and Harry coats two of his fingers in lube before bringing them to Louis’ puckered hole.

Louis feels the exact moment the French man presses a cold finger against the rim, gently teasing, before slipping inside of him. This causes a sharp gasp from Louis and he squeezes his eyes shut as his mouth falls open. Harry doesn’t have to keep going for very long before Louis demands “ _more_ ” in a surprisingly present tone, because he’s currently so overwhelmed with want that he shouldn’t even be able to form actual words.

So Harry just smiles sweetly and does so, pushing another finger inside, followed by another, gently moving and thrusting them in and out of Louis.

Louis knows that this is what Harry enjoys the most, watching Louis fall apart like this just from his fingers. It’s always been kind of a thing, how Harry almost enjoyed the foreplay more than the actual act because of the many ways he could tease and satisfy Louis. Harry would finger him until he was on the very verge of coming, he would rim him until he was sobbing, he would kiss Louis’ collarbones and suck bruises into Louis’ thighs, and he would get off on just knowing how affected Louis was by his actions almost as much as if Louis actually had a hand on his dick.

When the green eyed man crooks his fingers inside of Louis and hits that sweet bundle of nerves, that’s when Louis full out moans and throws his head back, at first too overcome by the feeling to make a coherent sound, but then says;

“Okay, please Harry, I – please. I need…”

“You need what?” Louis locks eyes with Harry, only to see the raised eyebrows and the feigned innocence in his boyfriend’s gaze as he speaks. The incredibly self-satisfied smirk that’s playing in the corners of his mouth gives the act away a bit, though, and Louis groans.

“I need – _you_ ,” he yelps at the last word as Harry crooks his finger once again, hitting Louis’ prostate with smug precision.

“Need me to _what_ , Louis?”

“You are so full of shit, I swear to God,” Louis pants, and it’s supposed to sound sharp but it doesn’t.

Harry shrugs. “Well, then,” he says with a soft sigh and then he simply removes all of his fingers from Louis’ hole. Louis whines and winces at the cold emptiness and shoots Harry a glare to declare his displeasure.

Harry doesn’t seem too bothered, though, as the humorous twinkle in his green eyes still hasn’t vanished. “Something wrong?”

The shorter man just looks at him disapprovingly, as Harry’s smile just grows wider and wider. The curly man leans down, propping one elbow on Louis’ ribcage to rest his chin in his palm.

“Is there something I can do for you, _mon cheri_?” he smirks.

Louis breathes out in small shudders.

“Fuck me,” he almost whispers. “Please. I need you to fuck me.”

The curly-haired man’s beam is just as breathtaking as his recently performed skills.

“Of course, _cheri_. Just had to ask.”

Then there’s the sound of a zipper being undone and Harry drags his jeans and underwear down mid-thigh, his cock springing free. Louis watches as he reaches for the bottle once again, lubing his dick and lining himself up by Louis’ arse, gleaming green eyes meeting pools of expectant blue.

“You ready?” Harry asks, ever so softly.

“Yes,” Louis breathes. “Very ready.”

Another smile is dimpling Harry’s cheeks, and then he starts slowly pushing his cock inside Louis’ hole. A mutual gasp escape both of their lips at the sensation, and Louis drags Harry down to connect their mouths.

The other man melts into the kiss, nipping and licking at Louis’ lip as he sinks in deeper and deeper into his boyfriend until the younger man’s hips are fully pressed against Louis’ arse, giving him time to adjust.

When Louis shakily tell him to “move, move,” Harry does, sliding almost all the way out, before going back in again with a groan. The long anticipated friction is overwhelming, and he starts thrusting with more stamina, encouraged by Louis’ soft whimpers.

Louis take a second to open his eyes and look at the boy above him. His eyebrows are furrowed and parted lips cherry red, flower crown askew but still on his head. The petals are slowly falling onto his messy curls and down on Louis chest, and it’s actually surreal, how much Louis adores this man.

A sweet and muddled mixture of whispered words shapes poetry in the spaces between their lips, shifting between Louis’ high, soft whispers and Harry’s deep, raspy French. And as Harry changes his angle and hits the sweet spot inside of Louis, the English man lets out a high pitched moan, tugging on Harry’s slightly damp curls and pulling him in to reattach their lips again.

Harry lifts one fisted hand from the covers to close it around Louis’ aching cock, messily jerking him off in time with his thrusts, and the combined pleasure is making Louis dizzy.

It’s not very long until Louis feels his stomach tighten with heat again, and he throws his head back as Harry pounds into his prostate again and again.

“Haz…” he gets out. “Gonna—gonna come.”

“ _Moi aussi_ , _cheri_ ,” Harry huffs out unsteadily.

He keeps fucking into Louis, and Louis pushes himself down to meet Harry’s cock, both eagerly chasing their orgasms. The pressure is building up inside of Louis, the stimulation growing too much to handle, and he comes with a loud sob all over Harry’s hand and his own stomach.

It only takes about three more times pushing into Louis’ oversensitive hole for Harry to come as well, burying himself deep inside of Louis and arms going weak. He pulls out carefully and then lies down with his head on Louis’ chest, both men gasping and breathing heavily.

As they both lie there, minds still hazy and eyes glossy and torsos sticky with come, Harry intertwines their fingers slowly.

“I really am sorry, though,” he mumbles, and Louis sighs.

“Yeah,” he answers quietly. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I was awful. I’d never actually doubt you like that, I just, you know how I get…”

Louis silences him with a soft peck on the lips. “All I need to know is if we have agreed that I’m staying in Paris with you and that you will not feel guilty about it.”

Harry closes his eyes, but nods. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, okay.”

“Good.” Louis intertwines their fingers slowly. “Then we’re just fine.”

“i would've moved though, you know that, right?”

“Hmm?”

Harry plays a little with Louis' fingers. “If you'd wanted to move here, I'd come with in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Louis smiles. “You're just selfless like that.”

The curly-haired man smiles too then, dimpled and wide and he looks like the first rays of sun poking through the curtains an early Sunday morning.

And Louis thinks he’ll probably never stop finding him beautiful.

“ _J’taime_ ,” Harry says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Louis cuddles impossibly closer until their foreheads touch and he can feel Harry’s calm breath on his lips.

“Love you, too,” he replies with a crooked smile.

Then he looks down at the mess they’ve made and grimaces. “This is filthy.”

“It is,” Harry agrees, stroking a strand of hair away from Louis face.

“I think we need a shower.”

Harry smirks and raises his eyebrows. “Is that a... factual recommendation?”

The caramel-haired man gets something mischievous in his eyes as the corners of his mouth slowly turn upwards. He tugs on Harry's necklace to get them both sitting up again.

“That's the most invitational invitation to ever invite, dear Harold.”

 

~

 

When Louis wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in his room. Brows furrowed in confusion, he gets out of bed quickly and goes looking for Harry.

He finds him on the living room floor with the twins opposite him and with Doris in his lap, crown askew on his mop of bed head curls and flowers scattered all around the four of them, thoroughly showing step by step how to make a flower crown. They are all already wearing one each, including the seemingly content baby in Harry’s arms, and the twins are looking very focused as they try to braid the daisies and the buttercups together.

“And be really careful; especially buttercups are very fragile,” Harry tells them.

Daisy and Phoebe are careful; methodically working and showing Harry along the way, at which they are always met with praise (“you sure you haven’t done this before?” “real naturals, I’m telling you.” “I never learned this quickly.”)

When they are done, they put them on and Harry claps his hands enthusiastically. By then he has of course made about five more crowns himself, and as he lays them all out between them, he looks up for the first time and catches Louis watching them fondly by the doorway.

Harry beams. “Hi, Lou! Look what we’ve been making; aren’t they just the prettiest things? I made one of baby’s breaths and alyssums for Doris, because they resemble pureness, playfulness and grace, and Daisy and Phoebe got to make their own and they’re really good. I made ones for Fizzy and Lottie, as well, and this one’s for you, oh and the other tiny one is for Ernest in case he feels left out. I’m thinking about making one for your mum as well, should I? I mean, it’s kind of rude to – “

“I want to have a family with you,” Louis blurts out.

And then it’s all a bit quiet.

Harry immediately stops talking. His jaw goes slack for a few seconds before he closes his mouth and starts chewing on the inside of his cheek. Louis suspect it’s to hide the smile that’s visible in his dimples. “Really?”

Louis nods fiercely. “Yes.”

It hasn’t really struck him before, the whole family and kids thing. But seeing Harry being so good with his sisters, just imagining him sitting there with his own child, their child, Louis wants that. He really, really wants that.

He walks up to them to sit down beside Harry. “I mean – not like, _now_ , Christ, but you know. Later. In a few years, maybe.”

It’s a bit weird, Louis thinks. The twins are still sitting quietly, looking between each other and Louis and Harry. Doris has realized she’s wearing something on her head and started playing with it. Somewhere in the house, a door opens and hazy footsteps are walking into the kitchen.

But Harry’s only looking at Louis.

Louis looks down on his lap, an uncomfortable heat spreading from his neck and across his face. “I mean. Maybe this is too early to say something like that. Shit. Sorry.”

“No,” Harry protests instantly. “Not at all. I want that with you, too.”

Louis looks up at him again at that, watching those green, green eyes twinkle with joy, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Okay. Awesome.”

“Yeah.”

They just sit there for a while after that. Silently looking into each other’s eyes and study each other’s features like they have done so many times before. Louis thinks he’ll never get sick of how they work.

“Good morning, everyone. What have I missed?”

They don’t even look at Felicite when she enters the room with a cup of tea in her hands. Phoebe does, though, and sighs.

“Harry taught us how to make flower crowns, and those two want children with each other.”

“So nothing particularly surprising, then,” Fizzy settles and grins.

Louis takes his eyes off of Harry to make a face at his sister.

“You’re so very jealous of me,” he grins at Fizzy and walks to sit down by Harry, leaning in to rest his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I’ve got a model-worthy boyfriend of my own, thank you very much,” Fizzy quips at her brother and takes a sip of her tea.

“Still not a model,” Harry sighs.

Louis smiles fondly. “Still incredibly in denial.”

And it’s really nice, sitting right there on the floor of Louis’ family’s living room, Doris gurgling happily in Harry’s lap and the older twins braiding flowers and Felicite drinking tea and Louis leaning on his boyfriend.

“By the way,” he then says, lifting his head off of Harry’s shoulder to look at him. “When we get back home I was thinking maybe we should look up some ways for me to start taking French classes? Because I really need to get on that.”

Harry’s cheeks dimple wonderfully. “That’s a great idea. I think I might know someone, if you want. He gave me advanced English classes back in Nantes and moved to Paris before me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Louis huffs a little. “Should’ve known you took extra English classes in school, dork.”

Harry laughs and everything’s fine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a good time to mention that I've never written smut before this. So if that part was shitty, that's probably why. 
> 
> Kudos and comments makes me v happy xx
> 
> Also if you'd be a lovely little soul and check out my [tumblr](http://www.a-bit-extraordilarry.tumblr.com), I will show my gratitude in virtual hugs and cake :) x


End file.
